


Warm At Last

by the_ragnarok



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: M/M, Martyr Complex, Violent Thoughts, suicidal ideations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 21:52:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5514638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/the_ragnarok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hardest catastrophe to deal with would be an explosive device right here in the theater.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warm At Last

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Warm At Last 以暖驱寒 （翻译/Translation）](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6332485) by [sandunder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandunder/pseuds/sandunder)



> ok so I was using [this prompt generator](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com/promptsnsfw) and this is the prompt I got:
> 
> Setting: Concert Hall  
> Genre: Plot What Plot   
> Trope: Friends to Lovers   
> Prompt: Heroic gestures (nobility; self-sacrifice; risking self to save someone’s life   
> Kink: Fantasies (shared or solitary; role-playing) 
> 
> In conclusion CAN YOU BLAME ME. also, john/self destruction otp

The crowd is settling down around them. John leans back into his chair. It's been a tiring few days, and maybe he should have said no when Harold suggested they go out to attend a concert. But this way he has Harold's knee pressed against his, incongruously, a point of warmth when John has felt chilled for days.

His eyes go half-lidded as the music starts. Harold would doubtlessly be murmuring commentary if they were alone. As it is, he's watching the pit, frowning slightly in concentration.

John lets his mind drift. The music soars and rises, feeling the hall. The acoustics are excellent. They're in a good seat to make their way out in a hurry, Harold right next to the stairs and John at his side. John turns a lazy eye at the audience, noting their attentive hush. A close range attack here would be almost impossible. John scans the balconies, empty now as far as he can see. If there are snipers lurking, they are hiding well.

The hardest catastrophe to deal with would be an explosive device right here in the theater. There'd be no warning, maybe only a fraction of a second if John's instincts for danger gave him that: somebody shifting suspiciously, a tick carrying even over the music, the emptying of air before the boom. 

Maybe, just maybe enough time to lunge and cover Harold, bodily shield him from the blast and shrapnel. John would probably die, blood trickling away while Harold lived and breathed under him. He'd likely lose consciousness before pain caught up with him. 

Harold's frowning at John now, like the insides of John's head are transparent and Harold doesn't at all like what he's seeing. John smiles at him, serene, and lets the image go in favor of listening to the music.

The show ends without incident. Harold steps into a small unused alcove in the concert hall, waiting for the rush of concert goers to pass them by. 

As the crowd dissipates, Harold grabs the lapel of John’s jacket, kissing him soundly.

John raises his fingers to his lips, dazed. “What was that for?”

Harold’s mouth is pursed, belying the softness John felt earlier. “Whatever it was you were thinking of earlier,” he says, “I’m sure we can replace it with far more mutually satisfying images.”


End file.
